


blue and white and grey

by honey_butter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Has Not Watched Supernatural, First Kiss, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, i am starting that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27758740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_butter/pseuds/honey_butter
Summary: Cas had promised himself he wouldn’t regret it. But here, in this void, he can’t help but feel… hurt. Disappointed. Is he really worth just one tear? All he’d done, all he would ever be proud of, boiled down to a single drop of water and salt dripping down a cheek Cas had memorized years and years ago.A fix-it fic written by someone who has never watched a single second of supernatural but probably did a better job than the actual writers.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	blue and white and grey

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is fueled by spite and tumblr textposts and that's pretty much all i'm basing this on. so prepare yourself for some (probably) wild out of character moments. that being said, i felt like i had to do my part to try and fix whatever the heck you guys are going through. as a former voltron-er i sympathize. so. yeah. this is pretty short but also very long for being complete and utter bullshit.
> 
> also, it is important to me that you know, because i have nothing to base this on, i am picturing @/queerelfclub on tiktok's dean cosplay instead of whatever the actual guy's name is. his cosplay is awesome and a large part of the reason why i wrote this, you should check him out if you haven't yet.

Cas blinks and Cas breathes and Cas realizes that he really shouldn’t be able to do those things, wherever he is now. Superhell. Doublehell.  _ Where only the gay little angels get to go, _ he thinks, ruefully, the taste of the words sour in his mind.

It’s black around him, a void that’s somehow nothing and everything all at once. He’s distinctly aware that he can’t walk, doesn’t have legs and feet and a body to move. But he has eyes to blink. Lungs that need air. And thoughts. So many thoughts.

“I love you.” Three words. Three words he’d bitten down on and choked over and felt building and building inside of him for years. Three words had saved the man he loved’s life. Three words had damned his.

Before the void had claimed him, wrapped up the mortal body he’d become so stupidly attached to and destroyed it, transported his soul here, Cas had sworn Dean was trying to say something. But he was too slow and the everything and the nothing was rushing in in in and all Cas has to remember from that moment is a look of numb shock on Dean’s face, a single tear leaking from his eye.

Cas had promised himself he wouldn’t regret it. But here, in this void, he can’t help but feel… hurt. Disappointed. Is he really worth just one tear? All he’d done, all he would ever be proud of, boiled down to a single drop of water and salt dripping down a cheek Cas had memorized years and years ago. 

He takes a moment to trace the shape of that cheek in his mind. Because now he has time to waste, an eternity to waste, on thinking about this man. In his memory, Cas ghosts a finger over the sharp cut of Dean’s jaw, feeling the smooth skin and rough day-old stubble. Or, how he imagines they’d feel. He never got to find out. And now he never will.

Fuck. Cas is stupid. Stupid and rash and so so in love with a mediocre, emotionally constipated,  _ dumb as hell _ man.

Cas is vaguely aware that he’s crying. In the same way he’d blinked and breathed and thought. He’s sobbing actually. Which is so  _ stupid. _ There’s no turning back for him. He’s here and he’s never going back to Dean and Sam and that fucking impala. He’ll never see the sun again. Or feel the wind in his hair as he flies. He’ll never get to find out what Dean’s cheek actually feels like, or hold his hand again, or dance with him in their kitchen, or… or kiss him. He’ll never even get to hear Dean’s response to his confession.

And that’s just complete and utter bullshit.

But… but if saying those three fucking words was the happiest Cas would ever be. Then maybe he doesn’t want to hear whatever Dean said. Because it can’t have been good.

That doesn’t stop Cas from picturing something different. Something like, “I love you,” or, “And I you,” or anything equally as soul shattering and gut dropping and heartwarming.

Cas is pretty sure that’s why he’s crying. When your existence is over, well, it’s hard not to mourn all of the possibilities. The what-ifs. The somethings. So Cas doesn’t cry for Dean. He cries for himself. 

Time is hard to judge in that void. It might not even exist. Maybe that’s the torment: the not knowing. Or maybe it’s just the emptiness. The end of all things. Well, regardless, Cas cries for seconds or days or years. He isn’t sure and he never will be, and he’s distinctly aware he won’t ever be sure of anything ever again. Except for the void and his breathing and blinking and tears.

Eventually, Cas stops mourning and goes back to reminiscing. How trees look from the sky. How stars glisten from the ground. How humans are living and thriving and continuing above him. How  _ Dean _ is living and thriving and continuing. Or, well, he better be. If that idiot managed to, Cas isn’t even sure,  _ impale himself on a nail _ then honestly Cas really does deserve this.

Cas doesn’t focus on that thought, though, because he has eternity and he knows eventually he’ll turn to pain, but right now. Right now after he cried so hard. He wants to think about the light. About the good.

And naturally, his thoughts immediately turn back to Dean.

He’s got this one blue and white and grey plaid shirt that’s soft and comfortable and just slightly too big for Cas, which makes it all the more satisfying when he steals it. Cas would nab it from Dean’s dirty laundry bag when the motel they were staying in was too drafty, and only ever when Dean was already passed out or in the shower or off somewhere else. Sam… Sam caught him a few times but he never said anything, just narrowed his eyes and nodded his head and let Cas shame-burrow further into the shirt. And if Dean ever saw him, on those rare occasions Cas passed out in it, he never said anything.

So Cas thinks of the feeling of that one blue and white and grey plaid shirt, thinks of how it smelt. He only ever took it after Dean had worn it, so it wasn’t exactly clean, but no matter how much blood and sweat and… whatever else managed to get on it, the deepest smell was always of Dean.

Fuck. Dean.

His smile and his eyes and his hands and neck and shoulders and hair and Cas is going to just keep on naming body parts because what else is he supposed to do in this emptiness, in this everything. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees, and toes. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes, knees, and toes.

Cas would be lying if he said he never stared at Dean. He did. A lot. Too much. A small voice in his head whispers that Dean stared too, just as much, just as often as Cas did. A louder voice says not to dwell on things that could have been, that might have been, and forget what  _ was. _ So Cas focuses on what he remembers of Dean and not what he maybe saw.

Dean’s laugh. Dean’s voice. Dean’s hands grasping his, holding the wheel of the impala, killing demons and vampires and any other monster the week might spit out at them. Dean Winchester… Dean Winchester is incredible. Incredibly stupid, maybe, but incredible all the same. Cas wishes he could tell him that, one last time. Could steal his shirt and hear him laugh and cruise down the highway with him and Sam going forty over the speed limit. And goddammit Cas had just told himself this was exactly what he  _ wasn’t _ going to do, but this imagining isn’t painful, it’s just… nice. Comforting like a stolen plaid shirt after a long day. Like Dean’s hands, because he’d know those hands anywhere, on his shoulders, on his face, on his arms, pulling him up… Wait. Pulling him up?

Cas has a moment to blink and breathe before he feels the void falling away from his face, dripping out of his mouth and nose and off of his skin, and those aren’t imagined hands on him they’re real. And they’re nearly pulling his arms out of his sockets before Cas is collapsing on the floor, hacking and coughing and spitting up both of his lungs, getting all of that void out of him again.

“Cas, Cas. Breathe. Shit. Sam, should I whack him?” His voice… his fucking voice. It just makes Cas cough harder, heaving out the hurt and defeat.

A hand that is definitely not Dean’s, Cas would know anywhere, and is definitely Sam’s, comes down hard on his back, pushing the last of Superhell from his body. He sucks in a breath, and another, and another. The air is cold, stinging his lungs. Cas stares at the ground, hardwood he’d stepped over, had even slept on, and shivers. They must’ve gotten home in a rush, Sam and Dean, if they hadn’t turned the heat on yet.

“Hey, guys,” Cas manages, his voice more raspy than usual.

Sam slams him on the back again, before immediately pulling away when Cas winces, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Shit.” Dean adds, eloquently.

“Yeah,” Cas agrees, pushing himself up to a sitting position and peering up at the two Winchesters leaning over him. “How— How’d you get me out?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam says, failing to elaborate.

“Shit.” Dean says. Helpful.

“Thanks?” Cas can’t help but turn it into a question. He should be used to these two by now, but sometimes they are less than informative. 

“No problem,” Sam says. Dean looks like he’s fighting back another ‘shit.’ “I should, uh, maybe go out and make sure another demon doesn’t show up.”

“What?” Cas asks, because if there’s really demons it would be helpful if one of them could  _ elaborate maybe. _

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry,” Sam says, clapping Cas on the shoulder before turning to the door. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Cas says again. 

And then Sam is gone and Dean is left towering over him. Cas feels silly, sitting on the floor like that, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stand up without the adrenaline rush that comes with battle. It’s weird, going from body to no body to body again. And it’ll take Cas a while to figure out how to get his skin to cooperate.

“Do you need… some water or something?” Dean asks, awkwardly, eyes going from Cas to the fridge to the door Sam had left through and then back to Cas again.

“Er. I’m fine.”

“I need some water.”

“Okay?”

Dean knocks a fist against his leg, sighing heavily, before walking to the fridge and taking out the water pitcher and a cup. Nasty thing about cabins in the woods, you can’t always trust the pipes. Dean gulps down one glass of water. Then another. And then a third. Cas is still sitting on the floor, but he realizes, with a start, that Dean’s wearing his blue and white and grey plaid shirt.

“So.” Dean finally says, staying by the fridge but looking back to meet Cas’s eyes. “Glad you're not dead.”

And that. That just about does it. Cas laughs. And then he chokes. And then he laughs again. Harsh and painful and grating on his throat. 

“Are you okay? Wait. Here.”

Dean gets another cup from their cupboard, filling it and then bringing it over to Cas. He squats to give it to him, before sighing and sitting down fully. Cas numbly takes the cup, still laughing and fighting the urge to either punch Dean or kiss him and neither will be good but they're better than just  _ sitting  _ there.

“Are you just going to pretend it didn’t happen?” He finally gets out, going with talking before violence and passion.

“Um,” Dean rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “No.”

“So, what? I can’t… I know I just got back but I can’t—You’re so important to me, Dean, and I went to fucking Superhell for you.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

Cas wants to rip his hair out. “You don’t get it!”

“What?” He sounds actually confused now, startled too from the way his eyes are wide.

“You don’t have to be sorry! It was my choice! It was my… my last act to help you. To thank you. To tell you.”

Dean just stares at him before mumbling, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not— I’m not great at this.” 

Cas just waits, he’s said his piece. It’s Dean’s turn now.

“I, um, I guess you might not have heard but I said it back. I was, well, really stressed and it might have been in Spanish I can’t really remember but. I said it.”

Cas feels like his chest might cave in. Like his heart might explode. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair this wasn’t fair this wasn’t fair. 

“What I mean is… I love you too.”

Fuck. Dean.

“In a more than brothers way. In a I-would-go-to-Superhell-for-you-way. If that wasn’t clear.”

_ Fuck. _

_ Dean. _

“I have… I have for a while. I’ve wanted— God, I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember.”

“That’s stupid.” Cas says. Stupidly.

“Yeah, I know. I should’ve done something about it sooner.”

“Why not… why not now? Better late than never.” It’s impossible to keep his tone light, to keep the hope out of it, to bury his despair and disbelief.

He doesn’t have to say anything else. Dean takes the still-full water cup out of Cas’s hand, putting it on the ground with a  _ chink.  _ And then those rough, calloused hands are moving to Cas’s shoulders, Cas’s cheeks. The last thing he sees before his eyes slip shut is Dean Winchester leaning towards him, chapped lips parted slightly and eyes wide in wonder. And then Dean is kissing him and nothing else in the world matters.

Cas learns very quickly just what, exactly, Deans jaw feels like. It’s even better than he’d imagined. Warm and rough and soft all at the same time, and it fits in his palm like it was made to be there.

They kiss for an indefinite amount of time, seconds dripping by languid and slow. It all gets lost in the slide of Dean’s hands and skin and lips. And if Cas could stay like this forever, he wouldn’t ever want to be found.

Eventually, Dean pulls away, tugging Cas against his chest instead of against his lips. It’s comfortable there. The familiar feeling of his shirt is soft on Cas’s face and he can feel Dean’s chest rising and falling.

“I didn’t say thank you before,” Dean whispers into the air between them.

“You’re welcome. But I hope you know it wasn’t an entirely selfless act.” Cas says, peering at him, “I did it because I love you, because you made me  _ believe  _ again. But I also did it because I’m selfish and I— I couldn’t imagine living in a world without you.”

Dean pulls him closer into his chest, “You still saved me. You did it because you wanted to save me. That’s a pretty damn brave and selfless thing to do.”

Cas rubs his cheek on the blue and white and grey shirt.

“So, I will say thank you. Because what you call selfish I call  _ good and kind and strong.” _

“If we’re doing this whole thing, I should be thanking you too. Dean… you made me want to live again. You made me  _ proud _ to live.”

Dean Winchester looks at the angel formerly known as Castiel, now simply known as Cas, and  _ this  _ is the wonder and joy and life and love that Cas had missed while in the void. Here. In Dean’s eyes. This is what had brought him back from an eternity of nothing. And this is why he’d fight like hell to make sure to avoid any ill timed self-sacrifices in the foreseeable future.

“I love you, Cas.” Dean says, again, because he wasn’t able to before.

“I love you too, Dean.”

They kiss again, and it’s just as good as the first few times and Cas knows, deep down, that he’ll never get sick of this.

It’s interrupted too soon by Sam’s yell from outside, “Uh, guys, I think I might need a hand.”

Dean pulls back, sighing, before pushing himself up and offering a hand to Cas. “Can you stand?”

For Dean. For Sam. For their home. For himself. Cas could stand. He takes Dean's hand, and pulls himself up, “Yes.”

Deans smiles, small and intimate, before pressing a quick kiss to Cas’s temple and tugging him towards the door. “Then come on. We’ve got some demons to kill.”

**Author's Note:**

> yep. this is a thing i did. there's not much left for me to say. i hope i didn't butcher them too much.
> 
> have an awesome day/night, don't be shy to comment, and i'm on tumblr at [labelleofbelfastcity.](https://labelleofbelfastcity.tumblr.com/)


End file.
